


figs and dates and orange scones

by dragonmage27



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Grindr AU turned Crazy Stupid Love, M/M, Muscles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:58:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmage27/pseuds/dragonmage27
Summary: “Now that we’ve followed your plan, would you be averse to following mine? I had wanted to start by buying you a drink. And then if we got on, we’d talk all night long, and maybe I’d get your number. If you were amenable, tomorrow I’d meet you for coffee.”Laurent raised a skeptical eyebrow, despite the fluttering of his heart. “You do this with all of your potential hookups?” The slow progression to bed seemed counterproductive to the purpose of the app; even Laurent knew that.Damen grinned. “No. But I think you deserve to be courted. And call me old-fashioned, but I do enjoy a long, drawn out courtship.”





	figs and dates and orange scones

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks and love to my beta, [dawnofthursday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnofthursday/pseuds/dawnofthursday), for all the encouragement and support, without her this fic would never have happened. Also much, much love for my artist, [itakoaya](http://itakoaya.tumblr.com/) who has brought my story to life with her amazing artwork. You spoil me with so much beautiful art. New York to Sydney, without this bang we would never have met, so shoutout to the mods for continuing this event and making it happen!

Laurent quietly refused another refill of his mimosa from the overeager waiter. With the price he’d paid for a private room at  _ Egeria, _ an upscale restaurant that boasted a transportative Akielon retreat in the heart of Delpha, he appreciated their server’s attentiveness. He did, however, wonder for the third time if unlimited drinks had been a mistake when Lazar challenged Orlant to another chugging competition. Laurent pinched the bridge of his nose. He was not taking care of them when they inevitably, while kneeling on the bathroom floor, realized that top-shelf liquor shouldn’t be imbibed the same way as cheap, watered-down beer.

So far, the food had been delectable, even for Laurent’s picky palate. It had been a good decision, considering the endless and pointless arguing between Auguste and Aloisa regarding what cuisine would be served at their wedding. In the end, Laurent sat them both down and made the decision for them. He submitted a catering order at a well-reputed Veretian-Vaskian fusion restaurant and decided the bachelor party would serve Akielon fare, since Aloisa and her bridesmaids were taking a weekend trip to Isthima before the wedding. There had been no objections.

Auguste and Aloisa looked pleased by the simple, yet elegant bachelor brunch that Laurent had arranged. Delicious entrees, unlimited drinks—it would be the tasteful start to their day until later, when they would move their party to a chartered boat, and continue their celebrations just beyond the shore. Considering how some of Auguste’s groomsmen looked too drunk already, Laurent wondered if he should make sure no one jumped into the water. It would be a hassle, one that Laurent had no desire of dealing with. And he supposed Auguste wouldn’t appreciate any accidental drownings either.

It was atypical for Aloisa, as the fiance, to be present as the groomsmen celebrated, but the couple was too elated at finally being together in Delpha to think much of propriety, and so Auguste had asked for her to be in attendance. They were sitting next to each other now, joining the drinking revelry. With her Vaskian descent, Aloisa could match all the men drink-for-drink, and then some.

Feeling his head begin to prickle from the alcohol, Laurent drained his water and signaled for a refill. He drank the cup after it had been replenished, but dismissed the server when he went to pour him another glass. Auguste had just begun to feed Aloisa the acacia honey gelato, spurred on by the rowdy groomsmen, and so took no heed of Laurent as he left for the restroom, who was eager to escape for a quiet break.

One hand on the door to the men’s room, Laurent paused when he heard the loud voice of one of Auguste’s groomsmen. It was Chauvin, a colleague from King’s Guard, a private security firm that Auguste brought in as one of the holdings under their father’s giant business conglomerate. Although Auguste was the CEO, he liked to make friends with his employees, something Laurent told him repeatedly was not a good idea.

Laurent didn’t particularly like Chauvin; he found him cocky, elitist, always willing to court favors for his own advantage, and, when Laurent surveyed his work for Auguste, fond of cutting corners. It hadn’t surprised Laurent to find that Chauvin had been hired as a favor to a family friend. 

Chauvin’s voice was haughty as he spoke to his companion, not realizing that Laurent was at the door. “What kind of bachelor party is this? Where are the strippers?”

A voice answered in agreement. It was another from King’s Guard. Laurent much preferred reliable Jord, or Orlant, who now worked with Laurent at his publishing company but had been friends with Auguste since university. They didn’t come from money, unlike Chauvin, but they were far more honorable.

“But I guess it should have been expected, when the best man is Auguste’s little brother,” Chauvin continued speaking. “He’s frigid. I heard there was a model at the last company party who went out of her way to slip him her number and he threw it away. Wouldn’t be surprised if he would rather stick his cock in a book than in a woman.”

The woman  _ had  _ been a model, and an aspiring writer, but she had given him her number in the hopes that Laurent would take a look at her manuscript. After a painful ten minute conversation with her, Laurent knew better than to waste his time.

“But man, wouldn’t I love to get my cock in him. You’re blind if you don’t think he’s gorgeous.”

“Don’t get your cock frozen off, that’s all I’m saying.”

Laurent didn’t wait to hear the friend’s reply, and walked away from the restroom, heading outside to get some fresh air. Laurent was a bit miffed that he couldn’t recall the other employee’s name—considering he had sent out the invitations for this brunch—but he supposed he’d learn it when he went to Auguste’s HR department later to have them both fired, and then blacklisted from every employer in Delpha. Perhaps Laurent should arrange for a scandal; there would be no monetary compensation if they had reasonable cause for termination—Auguste would prefer that. 

Laurent stepped out into the dimly lit alleyway and leaned against the off-white stucco wall of the restaurant. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone—he would rather have them removed from the company sooner than later, preferably before the wedding.

“Hey sweetheart, you can’t smoke here,” a voice said, interrupting Laurent’s calculating thoughts.  

Laurent turned to face the man who addressed him so casually, noted his apron, and deduced he came from the back door leading to the kitchen. Even through the chef’s jacket, Laurent could see the man’s large muscles bulging from carrying the two heavy bags of trash.

Laurent maintained an unimpressed look as he continued drawing his phone out from his pocket. “I don’t smoke,” he said tartly. “I needed some air.”

“I’m sorry for the mistake,” the man said, sounding genuine. He walked up to the giant trash container and Laurent couldn’t help but notice, again, the ease with which the man tossed up the heavy bags. He was clearly of Akielon descent: olive skin, dark curls, the stature of a giant animal. He had a nice smile, which Laurent noticed was directed towards him.

The man, clearly done with his task, lingered in the alleyway. “Are you here with the private event? I hope I’m not hitting on the groom,” the man teased easily with the casual flair of a confident man.

Laurent stared at him coldly, before turning on his heel and returning to the party.

 

+++

 

After what felt like too long of a day, Laurent returned to his apartment and immediately drew a bath for himself. Laurent considered the day a success: no one had drowned, and Auguste and Aloisa had bright smiles the entire afternoon on the boat, lying in each other’s arms, laughing at the antics of their friends. Laurent had initially avoided getting in the water, until Auguste feigned a muscle cramp and Laurent dove in to rescue him. He found himself forced into an underwater wrestling match much to the amusement of Aloisa, who had videotaped everything. Laurent admitted he had had fun, but he couldn’t wait to get the feeling of the ocean off his skin.

His apartment was quiet, something he normally appreciated, but today it only served to make him feel unsettled. He could hear the muffled noise of his neighbor’s music next door but nothing decipherable. Sinking into the warm water, Laurent allowed himself to relax, and finally succumb to his thoughts.  

He would make arrangements to take care of Chauvin and the other groomsman tomorrow. He wouldn’t inform Auguste until after the issue had been resolved; no need to concern him before the wedding. Laurent always knew the majority of de Vere Holdings would be handed down to Auguste and he had no problems with that arrangement—Laurent was perfectly happy managing his own publishing company—but he had also vowed to inconspicuously remove any and all obstacles to his brother’s success, especially when it became obvious that Auguste was too good and too kind for the world of business.

_ He’s frigid _ .

Laurent looked listlessly around his bathroom. It was clean and organized, with all the bath products for a single bachelor. There was nothing  _ wrong _ with him. Laurent snorted to himself. Who was he trying to convince? Chauvin was beneath his attention. But his irritating words continued reverberating in his head.

Laurent thought back to the chef in the alleyway. He looked… nice. Well-proportioned, maybe a few years older than Laurent. There had certainly been nothing wrong with  _ him _ , or their short ten-second interaction. They were both adults. What if Laurent  _ had _ allowed him to flirt? Where would it have gone?

Laurent never had any interest in frivolous displays of affection; he had always thought of it as a weakness. Everything Laurent achieved, he gained by himself; he didn’t need someone else to prop him up. Laurent thought back to Lazar and Pallas, who were more often than not adjoined at the hip, and who had spent the afternoon trying to tug off the others’ swim trunks underwater. Even Auguste and Aloisa had their moments when they were lost in each other’s eyes, Auguste pulling Aloisa into his lap and whispering into her neck, not aware of the outside world. Laurent had never thought any less of them for showing their affections so openly.

There was nothing wrong with intimacy. Laurent thought back to the man with the gentle brown eyes and broad shoulders, and wondered what it would feel like to let him wrap those thick arms around him, and allow himself to rest his head on the man’s chest.

Laurent wasn’t frigid. He didn’t deny himself his own carnal needs; he was perfectly fine relieving himself with his own hand, but he confessed he has always prioritized his family and career. And with Auguste marrying Aloisa, and Laurent slowly but surely knocking out Auguste’s competitors behind the scenes, Laurent wondered if his own desires were actually  _ always _ present, and simply overshadowed. Laurent was fond of using the excuse of deadlines to push away Auguste whenever his older brother invited him to a frivolous social event. But Laurent set his own deadlines, and took only the work that he wanted to do.

Laurent couldn’t imagine himself dating. Updating Auguste with his life was tiring enough, let alone sharing it with one other person. He couldn’t see himself planning dates or waiting outside the theatre with flowers—Laurent couldn’t see himself waiting for anyone period. His schedule was arranged to prioritize his time; how would he ever manage to fit in time for someone else?

But, a traitorous part of his mind began to propose, sex is not the same as dating. You don’t need to hold hands with someone to fuck them.

Considering his complete and immediate rejection of the man he encountered earlier today after nothing more than a cursory and mildly suggestive interaction, Laurent realized direct encounters would not work well for him. He could probably walk into a bar and leave with someone in a short amount of time. He had no doubts about his appearance, having used his charms enough times to deceive people into lowering their guard and then signing a contract with them, not realizing they had just been carefully, craftily manipulated. But leaving with a stranger he’d just met at a bar would involve looking them in the eye and saying something non-scathing, appearing to be coy and seductive. Laurent could not be bothered.

Of course, in the present day there were modern solutions for the many busy professionals who also sought what Laurent wanted: quick, non-committal pleasure. One of the recent corporate tech firms Auguste acquired had quite the prolific array of projects, including but not limited to, online dating. Or rather—hookups.

Laurent would be lying if he said this was the first time he had thought about it. It would be impossible not to consider dating when he’s been confronted with the epitome of all romance-related things for Auguste’s wedding preparations. He never knew linen selection was such an ordeal, but apparently it signified something important regarding a relationship. And Auguste had given him many pitiful sighs every time Laurent confirmed that he was still attending the wedding without a plus-one.

Laurent, being who he was, had done a remarkable amount of research into a dating app that he didn’t have installed on his phone. His biggest worry was the backlash if someone he knew found him on the app, but of course there were counterarguments for every fault. If they thought him desperate, they were also on the same quest. Another worry was his photo being shared around—because matches were predominately only successful if a photo (with optimal angle and lighting) was uploaded onto an approachable but not too revealing profile, as his research told him. But realistically there was no one that Laurent was particularly afraid of.

Even when his father called him into his office to express his disappointment that Laurent had wasted his potential, choosing to give up his strong education to run a publishing company, Laurent had remained unfazed, continuing his display of underachievement while manipulating the seizure of three more companies and signing it under Auguste’s name. Laurent wasn’t afraid of his enemies, only afraid of disappointing Auguste, and he had a feeling his brother would be only too elated at finding out that Laurent had real human desires, if not eager for any details.

“I’m not a marble statue,” Laurent had complained to Auguste one time his brother alluded to Laurent’s asceticism.

“Torveld of Patras would beg to differ. He asked if you’d be present at the shareholders gala,” Auguste had replied back slyly.

Laurent had feigned ill. And then had thrown away Torveld’s get-well bouquet that leaned just too far on the side of extravagant and over-the-top.

Laurent had, without even realizing, dried off one hand and began thumbing through his phone, pulling up the installation page for the app. He felt a little foolish, but based on what Laurent had researched, he had nothing to lose. For this particular app, in the type of profile he needed to set up, he didn’t even have to upload a picture of his face. Just a more pertinent part of his anatomy, he thought wryly.  

As the app downloaded onto his phone, Laurent recalled another thought that had been plaguing him, and pressed to dial Auguste. After three long rings, his brother picked up and answered a little breathlessly, “What’s up, Laurent? Everything okay?” Laurent wondered if he had left his phone on the kitchen counter again and had to run for it. 

“Would you have preferred strippers, Auguste?” Laurent asked, cutting to the chase with his most serious voice. Reclining in his bath, Laurent poked at a few of the soap bubbles that floated across the water. He wanted to make sure his brother had the best time—he could always plan a second bachelor party if Auguste hadn’t been entirely satisfied.

When Auguste didn’t immediately reply, Laurent asked again, his voice a little softer, “Auguste?”

There was a burst of laughter over the phone and then a noticeably female and Vaskian-accented voice answered with a tease, “Laurent, you’re interrupting Auguste’s lap dance right now.”

Laurent hung up the phone.

He flushed. The water, which had been cooling as he rested in the water, felt chilled as his body grew warm. He didn’t want to think about his brother and future sister-in-law engaging in intimate acts. He needed—to stop thinking.

Laurent turned all of his focus back on his phone. Making a profile seemed to be great distraction. Username, age, height, weight—easy. Picture. Laurent glanced down at his naked body still submerged in the water.  None of it would be identifiable information unless he actually met up with someone—and even then. Auguste was the renowned heir of de Vere Holdings, used to occasionally having his picture plastered on gossip rags under a list of top ten bachelors. Not anymore, to the heartache of all the vapid socialites.

But the thought of Auguste and his future wife was the opposite of what Laurent wanted. He banished Auguste to the back of his mind.  He put his phone away.

Laurent slid further into the water, leaning his head back, resting it against the edge of the tub, and felt the water rise over his shoulders, ebbing against his neck. The wet strands of his hair was half-submerged in the water, plastered against his skin. Closing his eyes, Laurent let his legs fall open, relaxed.

Laurent’s left hand trailed down his chest, brushing up against a nipple and tracing faint touches across taut muscle. With his fingers light, he could imagine it being someone else’s gentle hands gliding across his body. Perhaps even the soft brush of lips trailing down, pressing light kisses that followed the soft trail of fine, golden hair.

When he reached his hips, his touch turned into a stronger one as he imagined a lover with strong hands rubbing circles into his soft skin beside his hipbone. Those large hands would continue downwards, avoiding the one place Laurent most desired it to go. The hands would alternate between a possessive grasp, and faint, gentle caresses along his inner thigh.

Perhaps the hands would leave faint bruises on Laurent’s pale skin, only visible when they were alone together in private. He would peel back the layers of his clothing, unveiling miles of unblemished skin except for the areas where his lover had so possessively laid claim.

Laurent let out a sigh as his other hand moved to tease a nipple, it quickly becoming a hardened nub. Pinching it between two fingers, he imagined it to be the teasing tug of a partner’s hand, or perhaps their mouth. Warm and wet, sucking on his nipple, moving his large hand from where it rested on Laurent’s thigh to play with the other neglected one. Laurent threw his head back, his chest rising and falling, and his lover would pull away with a grin, leaving twin peaks standing in cold air.

His lover would then press hot lips to the long curve of Laurent’s exposed neck, leaving marks that would need to be hidden the next day. One of his large hands would move south again, but ignore the heaviness lying between Laurent’s legs, instead reaching behind, pressing a teasing finger to Laurent’s most intimate region. Laurent would clutch at the dark curls of the man, a whining keening noise pulled out from his throat as the man applied the slightest pressure, only to pull away and continue the teasing dance. What a sight they would make, sun-kissed olive skin pressed against naked pale limbs. His soft brown eyes would be full of mirth as he asked in accented Veretian for Laurent to call him by his name.

Laurent gasped and sat up, sloshing the water almost over the side of the tub. His cock lay leaking and heavy between his legs, his nipples hard and at attention. So caught up in his fantasies, Laurent hadn’t realized that his usual vaguely defined lover had taken the shape of the man from the restaurant. Laurent’s cheeks heated at the memory of his intense yet warm eyes.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. It was too late for regrets now. He had rejected the man—and his pride would not allow him to return and ask for a second chance. He would be alone with his fantasies.

The sinking disappointment Laurent immediately suppressed put a damper on his mood, as well as the small feeling of guilt for objectifying the man. Laurent took that as more evidence that he needed to find himself a partner for the night. Someone to get out his frustrations and satisfy his needs. He just needed to bury away this feeling of  _ want _ and it didn’t matter who it was.

Laurent reached for his phone and took a picture. With the camera lifted above and angled towards his lower torso, the photo turned out rather artistic, Laurent noted upon review. His body was partially submerged beneath the sudsy water, his perked nipples just skimming the waterline. His skin was smooth and pale, a sharp contrast to his red, erect cock, which Laurent held loosely in his hand. The top of his thighs, faintly dusted with golden hair, could be seen.

Considering Laurent spent most of his time outside his apartment covered up by well-fitted dark suits, Laurent doubted anyone would be able to deduce the body was his. He had no identifiable moles or scars, just a large span of smooth, unmarked skin that he knew would objectively be attractive.

Before he could second-guess himself, Laurent submitted his profile.

Immediately the app began generating a series of matches for him based on location and proximity. There was no mistaking that this app could be for any other use besides anonymous fucking, considering that every profile Laurent confronted was more or less full of flattering amateur photos of cocks and balls.

Laurent glanced back down at his own erection, waning but still wanting. If Laurent was going to go through with this crazy idea, he supposed he could save the pleasure for when he had someone else’s hand wrapped around him.

Almost lackadaisical, Laurent began swiping through the profiles, scoffing at some of the mediocre attempts—this was a free hook-up app, but one should still have  _ standards _ . Laurent shook his head slightly, feeling foolish once again. He was comparing dick pics. Laurent wondered if the others had been right about him being frigid, as none of these numerous dicks were drawing his attention. He continued swiping pass.

Then he came upon one photo that made Laurent’s mouth get a little dry. The sheer girth of that cock made Laurent squirm in the water.  _ Guess I’m not frigid after all _ , Laurent mused. The erect cock had a large hand wrapped around it, and the man’s briefs pulled down just enough to expose that long shaft. The photo also had on display powerful, hairy thighs and an abdomen rippling with muscle. It was taken in a dark room, with just the yellow overcast of a lamp highlighting the stranger’s best features. There was another photo, and Laurent wondered for a second if he should click in, but he does anyway.

Laurent’s pulse quickened.

It was the chef from the restaurant. Easy smile, bright curls, and the same thick arms he saw that afternoon, but now bare as they braced against the door frame, posing for the picture. His muscles bulged in the same attractive way they had that afternoon, the way that made Laurent imagine them wrapped around him, or holding up his strong body, trapping Laurent beneath him.

Without even thinking, Laurent’s finger swiped for the heart button—shit,  _ shit _ . Could he take it back? But that would mean paying for premium features, which would mean offering up his credit card information, which would be even  _ worse _ .

The stranger might not even like him back and then it would be alright—Laurent quashed the traitorous thought of disappointment that this man might reject him. Laurent closed the app on his phone, and finally heaved himself out of the bath. He had been worrying about this for too long.

Laurent pulled on a comfortable robe and settled in to read a new manuscript. He could always rely on stories to distract himself when his own thoughts were too overwhelming. But it didn’t have the usual draw tonight, and instead Laurent found himself gravitating back to his phone every thirty seconds, checking to see if he had any new notifications.

After ten minutes, Laurent received a message, and he admitted to shamefully lunging for it, but would  _ not _ admit to the disappointment he felt when it was only Auguste apologizing for that horrifying phone call. Well, sort of apologizing. “I would regret it, Laurent, but I really don’t. It was  _ fantastic _ .” Not really apologizing at all.

Laurent’s face flushed, and he took the little horse figurine Auguste has brought back to him from Vask as a souvenir, dropped it into his wastebasket, and sent that photo to Auguste in an image attachment.

Auguste replied with several tearful emojis.

Laurent fought the smile on his face, and returned to the manuscript. It was looking to be absolutely dreadful and Laurent anticipated constructively, critically eviscerating the writer—that always put a deep-seated calm in him.

When Laurent finally pulled away, he was feeling the beginning of a headache. He wasn’t a drinker, but he really needed one. Checking his phone again, his pulse picked up when there was a notification from the app.

With a touch that was definitely not eager, Laurent opened the message, which read: “Hey sweetheart. What are you up to tonight?”

It was that man, and even through text he had the same casual confidence he exuded through their brief interaction. Laurent felt his heart pounding, his palms a little sweaty, but he finally made up his mind, and texted in reply:  _ I’m at Apotheke. Hopefully I’ll see you there. _

At that, Laurent slid off his bed and went to his closet. He pulled out a dark dress shirt and slacks, and was tying the perfunctory knot around his neck when he realized the tie might make him appear too stiff. Perhaps he should wear a color that wasn’t dark blue. Would white make him look more welcoming? Laurent pulled out a soft white silk shirt Auguste had purchased for him two birthdays before and tried it on. He left two top buttons undone and looked at himself in the mirror.

His blonde hair was slightly tousled from the minimal drying after the bath, and his collarbones were prominent, peeking out from beneath the sharp collar. His throat was pale and open and inviting and Laurent felt naked.

He changed back into his dark shirt and did all the buttons and wrapped his tie back around his neck. Better.

As Laurent went to lace his shoes, he wondered what he was thinking. How embarrassing would it be if the chef didn’t show? But he had wanted a drink regardless, and wouldn’t it be better if the chef didn’t make an appearance? Laurent would be able to put tonight’s lapse in judgement behind him and no one would be any wiser.

He checked his phone once more before leaving, and realized he had received a message almost immediately after he sent his last one. It was a series of emojis, with heart eyes and finger guns and eggplants. Laurent had almost made his assistant cry the first time he had responded to Laurent’s text with a smiling emoji, but something about knowing this chef, who was a hunkering giant of a man, and equating him with a drooling yellow face emoji made Laurent smile, just a little. “Idiot,” he said, almost fondly. Almost.

The man had sent additional messages:  _ You have a very nice [eggplant].  _ and  _ Can I see what you look like? What are you wearing? _

_ I’ll find you _ , Laurent messaged in reply.

Apotheke was an upscale bar, with clean tables, ambient lighting, and quiet jazz in the background. Couples and small groups were spread out in quiet conversation, either at the bar, along the low tables, or along the walls in intimate booths. Laurent had visited with Auguste to celebrate signing a large deal a while back and Laurent hadn’t visited again, but it was nearby, the bartenders were unobtrusive, and service was good. Laurent was not much of a drinker, so the high cost of a cocktail was not a deterrent—he liked that it tended to discourage a rowdier crowd.

He enjoyed the short walk, the autumn air clearing his head, and he was halfway through his gin and tonic, editing his best man’s speech for the eighth time on his phone, when the device buzzed and a message popped up:  _ :D :D :D :D I’m here _ .

Laurent rolled his eyes at the overuse of emojis, but turned towards the door nonetheless, and froze when he caught sight of the man. He was standing near the entrance, his phone in his hand, slowly sweeping his gaze across the bar, no doubt trying to scope him out. He had the same broad shoulders, no longer hidden by a heavy chef jacket, but now wearing a thin, tight black t-shirt that did little to hide the bulging muscles across the chest. The sleeves were tight around the biceps. Laurent unwittingly swallowed hard as his gaze drifted down to take in the strong legs encased in clean, dark denim. Given the concealed bulge, perhaps this night’s indiscretions would truly be worthwhile.

After taking a moment to drain his glass, Laurent stalked up to the man who had dropped his head back to his phone—possibly to send more childish texts—and said, “Exalted.”

Exalted69 looked up when addressed directly by his app username, and his brown eyes did a double-take as he took in Laurent standing before him. With wide eyes and obvious recognition, he said with vague questioning, “You.”

Laurent pushed forward, not particularly concerned over the man’s blatant confusion. When Laurent had decided something, he proceeded with the determination of a charging bull. “Still interested?”

The man smiled wider, his pleased look growing as he swept his eyes up and down Laurent’s form. In a voice tinged with deep amusement, he said, “Even more.”

Laurent fought the blush that threatened to erupt on his cheeks, and the small shiver that ran down his spine. His dark suits, which usually provided an additional layer of defense, felt shattered under the man’s penetrating gaze and he could tangibly feel their difference in stature. Instead he bit out, “Good,” and proceeded to grab the man by his wrist—to his surprise the man didn’t give much resistance—and dragged him out of the bar.

 

++

 

Laurent let go of the man’s hand the moment they ex ited the bar, but the man obediently followed him back to his apartment wordlessly. Laurent wondered if he could sense the tension. That drink had given Laurent just enough liquid courage to confront his ‘date’ but the short walk was beginning to seem like a bad idea. He needed more alcohol, or for the man to take the initiative, because he wasn’t sure how these hookups normally proceeded.

They rode the elevator up to Laurent’s floor, completely ignoring the guard at the front desk, and after too long of a silence, the man spoke up, his voice sounding too loud, too sudden. “So I guess you’re not the groom.”

Laurent slowly turned his gaze on the man, who looked back at him with a teasing grin. Laurent kept his face blank. “What if I said I was?”

The grin slid off immediately. “Then I’d probably head back downstairs. I don’t mess around with married, or soon-to-be-married, people. Besides the fact that it’s a shitty thing to do, I have, well, personal reasons.” He was serious, and his eyes darted to the button-panel, as if to make his escape now.

They maintained eye contact until the elevator arrived at his floor, the opening doors drawing Laurent’s attention away for a brief moment. “The groom is my brother,” he announced as he stepped out of the elevator, unsure if he should have said it. It was an easy out; a quick end to this potential mistake.

It seemed the man wanted him enough to believe him, though, even if his words could have easily been interpreted as a desperate, blatant lie, because the man followed him through the doors.

“You have a nice place,” the man commented as Laurent flicked the lights on.

Laurent knew it was nice. It was not the penthouse suite, although he’d been offered it, but it still provided him the most modern luxuries, with sleek lines and a view of Delpha worth dying for outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. “Thank you,” Laurent replied.

“What do you do for a living? Since you know mine.”

The man offered that same easy disarming smile. He was resting against the back of Laurent’s suede couch, far too comfortable in a home that wasn’t his. Laurent felt a little lost when he saw that dimple. He needed to gain control of the situation again. Laurent sent him a look, and said, “Do you want to fuck me?”

He looked a little thrown back by the question, but recovered quickly. The smile growing wider, he replied, “Yes.”

“Then no questions.”

“Damen,” the man said.

“What?”

“Since you said no questions. It’s nice to hear you call me Exalted, but Damen. I think that’s what I want to hear when I make you scream.”

Laurent scoffed.

Damen raised his arms in forfeiture or acceptance, the same teasing smirk on his lips. He looked around the spacious living room, and momentarily appreciated the view. The glittering lights of the Delphan skyline looked back, an urban starry night. Laurent had paid dearly for this view, but it guaranteed that the closest building was far enough away to provide him his privacy. Damen turned back to Laurent, and said with casual confidence, “Shall I just take off my clothes, then?”

Even at that suggestion, he didn’t lose his smile. Laurent wondered how often someone would offer to do such a thing. He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Keeping his face straight—could Damen hear his heart pounding?—Laurent moved to sit down on his love seat. He leaned back against the cushions, crossed his legs and let a tiny smirk show on his face. “Why not?”

Damen stepped around the sofa and at the same time reached over his head with those large arms and tugged his shirt off. His broad shoulders offset his trim waist, along with his defined pecs and the sculpted abs. He looked like an Akielon statue, except unlike museum exhibits, Laurent could touch. He wanted to run his tongue along his skin.

Damen continued stalking forward, now unbuckling his belt in a slow, seductive manner, and the actions only accentuated his overall presence, and it sent shivers down Laurent’s spine. Damen’s gaze stayed fixed on Laurent, his eyes dark with emotion. The belt dropped to the floor.  

Damen slowly unhooked the button from his jeans and pulled down the zipper. Laurent raised his eyebrows, as if to say _ go on _ . Damen shot him an amused look, and perfunctorily pulled down his jeans and boxers and stepped out of them, teasing finished.

Laurent leveled his gaze, unintimidated at the bareness. Laurent unthinkingly flicked a tongue over his lips, which suddenly felt dry. “I see you are everywhere in proportion.”

“I think you knew that when you swiped right.” Damen leaned down over Laurent, his large arms bracing either side of him, trapping him in his seat. Laurent got a close view of everything: dark eyes, the dark nipples that seemed to taunt him, and the teasing trail of dark hair downwards. His eyes snapped upwards just shy of viewing what lay beyond the dark curls. Damen’s voice was deep, like rich molasses. “Now, your turn.”

His breath was fresh and minty, as if he’d rinsed his mouth before meeting up. Laurent leaned forward in his seat, until his lips were a scant few centimeters from Damen’s. Damen stayed still, but Laurent didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to his lips. Before Laurent could lose all control, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to Damen’s bicep, and ducked under his arm to escape. He walked towards his bedroom, expecting Damen to follow. He did.

Laurent flicked the light on in his bedroom and in the adjoining master bathroom. “Go shower,” he ordered. He had a feeling Damen had already showered, considering he even thought to freshen his breath, but Laurent needed more time to  _ think _ . And he couldn’t think when Damen was parading around with his muscles and hairy thighs and large cock.

If Damen thought the order was strange, he showed no indication of it, only shrugging in a casual manner. “I do love shower sex.” Damen walked through the entrance and then paused, turning back slightly.

Laurent forced his eyes to drift back up from their subtly admiring gaze, but it was difficult. The man had back dimples.

“Not going to join me?” Damen asked, tossing a smile over his shoulder. He laughed when Laurent stayed silent. “I’ll leave the door open in case you change your mind. I’ll be enjoying your shower while you decide. I bet this place has amazing water pressure.”

Laurent immediately imagined Damen holding him up, pressing him against the tiles. He certainly seemed strong enough. They would be plastered together, wet skin sliding against each other. Laurent would have his legs wrapped around Damen’s waist, and they would move together. Damen’s hands would grab the mounds of his ass, his tight hold leaving bruises for the following morning. Laurent could imagine his aching cock leaking across Damen’s tight abs, only for the stream of water overhead to wash it away. Damen would shift his grip, Laurent would tighten his legs to stay up, and Damen would fist his large cock to chase the tight opening to thrust into.

The sound of the shower starting filtered through the open doorway and Laurent’s face flushed.

He went to get a glass of water, and with a second thought, brought a second glass back with him to the room. He set aside the water and sat down on his bed hard. Did he really want to go through with this? How would Damen react when he realized just how inexperienced he was? It had been just him and Auguste against the world for so long, and he had forgotten that at some point, Auguste would leave him to start a family, and then he would be alone.

But wasn’t that the point of tonight? To find someone so he wouldn’t have to be lonely? To fuck these thoughts out of his head, so he would know what it was like to feel that intimacy without the chains of being tied down?

“You don’t have to go through with this, you know.”

Laurent had been so deep in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the shower stopping. Damen was standing at the doorway, wet curls dripping water down his chest. He had a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. Laurent didn’t know how long he had been standing there.

Damen sat down beside him, and his voice was soft. “I can tell you’re nervous.”

Nervous. Besides Auguste, no one had ever dared accuse Laurent of ever being nervous. 

Laurent turned and pressed a palm to Damen’s still damp chest, and pushed him down onto the bed. Damen went willingly, arms reflexively moving to his waist when Laurent climbed on top. Laurent leaned down and pressed his lips to Damen’s, who immediately responded by opening his mouth to take him deeper. Damen’s hands traveled down his sides, and dipped under the waistband to pull his shirt out, sliding his hands under the fabric to touch bare skin.

Laurent buried his hands in Damen’s curls as Damen began sucking on his lower lip, dragging his tongue across his mouth in a way that made Laurent’s heart pound. While Laurent was focused on the sensation at his mouth, Damen was messing around with his belt, sliding it out of the loops with practiced efficiency.

Laurent paused when he realized what Damen was doing, and then found himself flipped over onto the bed. He hit the mattress with a small breath knocked out of him, whether from falling onto the bed or from seeing Damen hovering above him, bare-chested with the towel slipping ever lower. Damen smiled down at him. “Sorry sweetheart, I prefer to be on top.” 

Laurent flushed. There was some part of him he had never realized that agreed with Damen; he preferred Damen on top, too. Damen leaned down to continue their kissing and Laurent allowed him to do so. He lost himself to the sensation of Damen exploring his mouth, keeping his mind and tongue busy so he didn’t need to come up with something acerbic to say. Eventually Damen shifted so all of his weight was on one arm and moved to undo the tie around Laurent’s neck. Damen loosening his tie and undoing the buttons of his shirt slowly unfurled an unknown tension in Laurent. Damen’s fingers brushed against newly revealed slivers of skin, and it made him shiver. 

Laurent gasped when Damen mouthed at Laurent’s exposed neck. Damen sucked at a spot under his chin that made his toes curl, and Laurent instinctively grabbed his head to keep him there, not even recognizing the noises that were escaping his mouth. His other hand grasped at the large body holding him in place. Damen was too much, but not enough, all at the same time. His wet mouth was marking Laurent’s skin in much the same way that Laurent had fantasized about earlier, and he would no doubt leave marks in the morning.

Damen shifted, nosing at every inch of newly bared skin. He was fire, all-consuming, and Laurent couldn’t think; couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning from the overwhelming sensations as Damen caught a nipple between his lips, and began to fondle the other with his fingers. Damen should have felt suffocating, an oppressive force pressing him against the sheets, but Laurent just wanted more. He wanted Damen to lay his entire body on him, until there was not an inch between them.

Damen was unrelenting, and his shirt was soon entirely undone and pushed aside to expose more uncharted skin. Damen was running his large hands up and down his sides, rocking his knee against Laurent’s growing bulge. He moved back up to catch Laurent’s lips and reached to undo the button on Laurent’s slacks. The moment Laurent seemed to know what was happening, Damen was finding a new spot to tease, a new place to distract. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t  _ think _ .

The thought hit him like a bucket of ice cold water. Idiot.  _ Idiot _ . “Off, off!” Laurent panted—when had he become breathless?

Damen immediately pulled away, and sat up.  He stayed silent, waiting for Laurent. 

All of Laurent’s thoughts came surging back. Damen had the moves of an experienced casual lover, but the way he touched him had made Laurent feel special. But that was probably why he was so well-practiced. He left his lovers feeling worshipped and breathless, completely open to his exploring touches. He probably had a string of lovers who would gladly give themselves over to him. Laurent closed his eyes and berated himself for getting lost.

What was he thinking? He could be carrying diseases, and Laurent had been distracted by a large cock and bulging muscles. Momentary pleasure was one thing, but picking up a stranger from the internet was another. Laurent had been so deprived of human interaction that one touch from Damen had rendered him inept. Witless. _ Weak _ .

_ You met him before, _ his traitorous mind supplied, clearly receiving input from his dick, which was still hard and straining against the slacks trapping it in place.

Damen was still looking at him. Was it concern or disappointment?

“I’m sorry,” Laurent said finally. Without Damen’s warm body covering him, he felt cold. His shirt hung open, his chest fully exposed. He was still flushed; feverish. Damen was likely even more cold, sitting upright on the bed completely naked—the towel had fallen off at some point. “The night is still young, you can still go find someone else, probably.”  

“Is it… me?” Damen asked, his voice was soft. Like he was trying not to scare off a kitten, or me, Laurent thought with cruel humor. “Or is it because we’re moving too fast?”

Laurent didn’t reply.

Wordless, Damen got up from the bed and walked away. Laurent followed him with his eyes, traitorously still noting those tight glutes. His shoulders looked drooped. Disappointment. Damen did nothing wrong. He shouldn’t leave thinking he did.

Laurent got up from the bed as well. Damen was reaching for his clothes and pulling on his boxers near the couch when Laurent said at the doorway, “It’s not you.”

Damen looked up, jeans still in hand. After what seemed like a moment of internal debate, he finished pulling them on—well, why wouldn’t he leave—but instead of reaching for his shirt, he walked towards Laurent, who immediately stilled.

Damen noticed and took a step back. He turned to the couch and leaned against it, still facing Laurent and the bedroom, but keeping his distance. He had a slight frown as he pondered, “So it’s not me you’re rejecting.” His eyes furrowed.

Laurent didn’t know how to respond. A part of him wanted Damen to leave and never return. Laurent would know to avoid his restaurant and he was very good at compartmentalization. He wouldn’t have to think back on the day’s events, and could merely forget about all of this. But a faint part of him hoped that Damen would stay.

“You’re beautiful,” Damen said. “Easily one of the most stunning people I have ever met. So know that of course I am not at all averse to sleeping with you.”

What was he saying? Laurent opened his mouth but his mind failed him, and no words came out.

Damen continued, “I also do usually prefer to get to know my partner better before climbing into their bed, however brief the encounter. But when you said you wanted me in it, I certainly didn’t say no.”

His face was open and earnest, and Laurent couldn’t perceive any deception. There was no real motive to continue lying at this point anyway. This night wouldn’t lead to a quick and uncomplicated lay, after all. Could he have misinterpreted Damen’s intentions?

“Now that we’ve followed your plan, would you be averse to following mine? I had wanted to start by buying you a drink. And then if we got on, we’d talk all night long, and maybe I’d get your number. If you were amenable, tomorrow I’d meet you for coffee.”

Laurent raised a skeptical eyebrow, despite the fluttering of his heart. “You do this with all of your potential hookups?” The slow progression to bed seemed counterproductive to the purpose of the app; even Laurent knew that.

Damen grinned. “No. But I think you deserve to be courted. And call me old-fashioned, but I do enjoy a long, drawn out courtship.” 

As he said this, he slowly walked towards Laurent. Damen picked up his hand and brought it to his lips, murmuring, “The first fruit to be picked is not always the sweetest.”

The beginning of a laugh bubbled out of Laurent, and he suppressed it before it could escalate any further. What was happening to him? Damen joined him with his own chuckles moments later. His eyes were glittering. “Too much? But I got you to smile. And I was serious. I do still want to get you that drink.”  

Laurent tried to stomp down that smile, but his lips refused to obey. “I don’t keep any alcohol in my apartment.”

Damen shrugged. “I’m a chef, I can improvise with something else. If you don’t mind me exploring your kitchen?” He gestured, and when Laurent didn’t make any motions to stop him, he walked towards the counter that separated the living room from the cooking area.

Laurent didn’t fail to notice that Damen was still bare-chested. “Aren’t you going to put your shirt back on?”

Damen turned, and Laurent stared helplessly at him. “Do you really want me to?”

“Don’t… burn yourself,” Laurent said instead. He flushed. He could have insisted, but he didn’t.

Damen winked at him. “So thoughtful of you to care, but don’t worry. I’m a professional.” He began opening the drawers and cabinets, as well as the refrigerator, accustoming himself to Laurent’s kitchen.

Laurent wondered if Damen would call it quits when he noticed how sparse his kitchen was. Without realizing, Laurent had moved closer to watch, slowly rebuttoning his shirt as he walked. His tie was tossed onto the couch to accompany Damen’s shirt.

“One question—am I allowed questions now? You’re Veretian, right?” Damen was pulling out ingredients and utensils that Laurent hadn’t even realized he owned.

“What gave it away?”

Damen shot him a smile. “You mainly have only dry, pantry ingredients, so I’m thinking of making chouquettes—I’m hoping you’ll like that.”

Laurent’s heart was racing. He hadn’t had any proper Veretian desserts since moving to Delpha—at least nothing like what he had back in Arles. He slowly slid onto the bar stool overlooking the kitchen. He didn’t think Damen was serious about cooking for him, but there he was, cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. It was midnight and he had a half-naked man making batter and bending over to turn on his oven. If this was some odd dream, Laurent wouldn’t mind watching until he woke up. He slowly drew up one knee and decided to enjoy the view. 

A peaceful silence settled over them, something that didn’t seem possible considering Laurent had a stranger in his private home. Was he still a stranger though, if Laurent now knew what it felt like to have his naked body pressed intimately on top of him? 

It seemed Damen liked to hum as he cooked, but perhaps he also sensed Laurent’s need to figure out his thoughts in silence, because besides the occasional tune, it was just the sound of moving kitchenware. It was oddly domestic, a terrifying thought that registered in the back of Laurent’s mind. He had never imagined sharing his space with another, but Damen had adapted into his kitchen so readily, as if he was the one living in this home and not Laurent.

A delicious smell began wafting in Laurent’s direction, and he was pulled away from his thoughts as Damen slide a large plate of freshly baked chouquettes towards him. A second later, a large mug containing a hot drink joined it.

“I made hot chocolate too.” Damen smiled and gestured encouragingly.

The chouquettes look just as good, if not better, than in his memories; a beautiful golden brown round pastry topped with sugar accompanied by a mug of  _ homemade  _ hot chocolate because Laurent knew for certain he didn’t own any instant mix. 

Laurent stared down at the plate in disbelief. He was mostly stunned he had all the ingredients in his kitchen for this. He reached for a chouquette cautiously because he was still not certain that he wouldn’t wake up at any moment, and he wanted this dream to last.

The warm, soft texture of the pastry along with the sweetness of the sugar hit his tongue and Laurent let out a rather embarrassing moan of pleasure that had Damen dropping his own pastry onto the countertop. It rolled comically, trailing sugar as the both of them looked on with red faces.

Damen leaned a hip against the counter and said, “If I could get you to make more of those sounds, I will die happy.”

Laurent looked away from him, hoping to hide the blush on his face, but it was a lost cause. Laurent was not sure how the situation became the way it did, but as was typical of him, Laurent tried to take back control of the situation. “Let’s move to the bed.”

Damen quirked his lips, “Really?”

“To eat,” Laurent clarified. “Don’t get my sheets dirty.” Laurent hid the glee when Damen’s face fell. 

Damen glanced down at the chouquette that had trailed sugar on the counter. “I’ll try my best, but if you keep making those noises, you’ll be making it very difficult for me.”

Laurent grabbed the plate and his mug and turned away from Damen.  Damen followed him into the bedroom with his own mug, and they both carefully set their drinks on their respective bedside tables. Laurent set the plate of Veretian chouquettes between them.

Damen laid on his side, facing Laurent and still very shirtless. He said with no small amusement, “You know, when I said I would make you food and win my way into your bed, this wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

“We can go back to sitting in the kitchen if you have any objections,” Laurent said. He was sitting upright against the headboard, unlike Damen who was resting his head on his palm, propped up by his elbow. 

“No, I’m rather comfortable here,” Damen said. “Am I still not allowed to ask any questions? It will make for very poor conversation.”

“Who said there had to be conversation? I was rather enjoying the silence,” Laurent replied. ‘And the view’ went unsaid, because he couldn’t help to mentally file away the fact that Damen looked very nice lying on his sheets half-naked. “But I suppose you may ask one question.”

“Just one?” Damen fell silent for a few moments, before asking, “What made you step out of the party this morning? Something made you upset.”

Laurent blinked. Of all the questions, that wasn’t what Laurent expected. Laurent had prided himself in carrying his emotions like a closed hand, never to be revealed except for when it was in his favor to do so. Damen, chef extraordinaire, was more astute than his brawn stature suggested.

Laurent lifted up his mug of hot chocolate, and took a sip. It was rich and creamy and a small part of him hated to admit it, but he’d never tasted anything like it before. Of course, Damen did melt down some fancy Patran chocolates his parents had bought for him during their last trip, but there was something about it.  Laurent didn’t think he could replicate the same flavor. When he finally put down his mug, Laurent noticed that Damen watching him closely, and licked his lips to get the taste of chocolate off.

“Would you believe me if I said I had been orchestrating the ruin of two despicable men?” Laurent finally said.

Damen picked up a chouquette and said with amusement, “I believe a single smile from you can bring about the ruin of a lot of men, let alone what you can do when you put your mind to it. But I don’t think doing that will upset you.” Damen took a bite, and it left a bit of sugar on his upper lip.

Laurent resisted the urge to lean over and lick it off. “No, you’re not wrong,” he agreed. “The groom is my brother, as I said. He’s a number of a years older than me, but we were always close. We grew up in Arles, but when he came to Delpha for work, I followed him.” Laurent looked down at the mug in his hands. It was a comfort to cradle it.

Damen was a calming presence too. He was staying silent, listening intently.

“I like his fiancée; she’s well suited for him. But I had forgotten that it wouldn’t always be just the two of us forever.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like, if I must be honest.”

“Only child?” Laurent turned his head to look at Damen.

“No, I have an older brother too. But let’s just say we didn’t grow up close,” Damen replied with a grimace. “Arles must be nice. I grew up in Ios, but I’ve always wanted to visit.”  

“It was,” Laurent said. He didn’t miss it as much as he thought he would, when he first picked up his life and moved to Delpha with Auguste, but that was probably because the only worthwhile things remaining in Arles were his memories. Any city was just a city of anonymous faces—it depended on who you were with that made the difference. “Our family friend, Herode, owned a ranch just on the outskirts of the city. We would stay there during the summer, riding horses, swimming in the lake.” Laurent didn’t try to suppress his small smile. “I would always pretend to drown, and Auguste, knowing I was pretending, would dramatically come and save me, and then I would pull him under.”

Laurent’s eyes cut across to Damen and saw that he was looking at him with a soft smile of his own.

“I think I miss riding the most. We would never go far, but it always felt like we were traveling to far off lands when we galloped away, the wind in our hair.” Laurent closed his eyes and tried to remember it. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the way Damen kept his gaze trained on him. Laurent wondered if it was the quiet of the night or the lingering effect of the drink that somehow loosened his tongue. Rarely did Laurent talk about his childhood anymore. “How did you start cooking?”

If Damen was talking, then Laurent wouldn’t have to and his traitorous mouth would stop letting such personal thoughts slip out.

“My mother,” Damen answered. “She was an amazing chef and owned the restaurant that you ate at today. I used to follow her around in the kitchens but never picked it up. I was actually studying business as my father wanted, until she passed away and left me her legacy. So I pulled back up her old recipes and tried to recreate the same flavors. I discovered that I loved cooking and stuck with it. I renamed the restaurant  _ Egeria _ after her.”

“You said you grew up in Ios?”

“Partially. My father and half-brother are in Ios. I lived between Ios and Delpha growing up. My best friend, Nikandros, resides here too, and after my mother passed away, I decided to move here permanently to manage the business.” 

Laurent recalled all the raving reviews of  _ Egeria _ that led to him booking Auguste’s bachelor brunch at Damen’s restaurant. He could tell that Damen was successful in preserving his mother’s memory. “What is your favorite thing to cook?” 

Damen looked at him, his dimple in full view. “That’s a lot of questions. Is the ban lifted?” 

Laurent wondered when was the last time someone who wasn’t Auguste teased him and got away with it. Damen had a strange way of expressing himself that made you want to agree with him. Perhaps it was his disarming smile. “You’re feeding me chouquettes, yes the ban is lifted.”  

“Thank you, your highness. But I haven’t fed you,” Damen looked down at the pastries still lying between them and picked one up. His hand hovered over the plate for a scant second before he reached over across the bed and held it out in front of Laurent’s mouth. “Yet.” 

Laurent stared down at the extended hand and the choux pastry. After two seconds, Laurent opened his mouth and allowed Damen to press the chouquette between his lips. Damen’s hand lingered for two seconds, his thumb swiping the sugar from his lips before withdrawing. 

“My favorite dish to make is actually something really simple. My mother used to make it for me as an after school snack. Sweet figs and walnuts wrapped up in a phylo roll, drizzled with honey and dipped in Akielon yogurt. It reminds me of her.” Damen took a long drink of his hot chocolate, still a little lost in his memory. 

“Is there anything you can’t cook?” 

“Hm,” Damen pondered. “Rabbits.” 

Was he serious? Laurent couldn’t tell. The last time he saw rabbits were in the wild near Chastillon. 

“I just don’t know which end to begin with,” Damen continued with a very straight face. 

“You must think you’re funny.” Laurent narrowed his eyes, even though inside he was trying not to laugh. He imagined Damen holding up a poor rabbit by its hind legs with a confused look on his face. 

“I think I’m very funny,” Damen agreed, his smiling growing. By then, they had both stopped eating. Damen moved the plate between them to the side table, and shifted until he lay in the middle, not enough to touch Laurent, but still comfortably resting on his side, head propped up by his hand. “What’s your favorite breakfast food?” 

Laurent felt a crick in his neck from constantly looking down towards Damen, and slid from the headboard until he was curled on his side, resting his head in the crook of his elbow. He faced Damen. He used to sleep with Auguste like this as a child when his own room felt too big. Auguste always asked if Laurent wouldn’t mind staying to protect him from the monsters that go thump in the night, and Laurent would say with a sleepy-serious voice,  _ of course _ , and then Auguste would ruffle his hair, and Laurent would curl up against his side to protect him. 

“Blueberry pancakes. Auguste used to arrange a smiley face with the berries. He would always burn them because he took so long,” Laurent finally answered, failing to hold back a wide yawn. “Also orange scones. We have an orange tree and Auguste used to lift me up onto his shoulders to pick the sweetest ones.” Laurent blinked. Now that he was no longer sitting up, the call of sleep was coming in stronger. Damen was watching him, absorbed in his story but Laurent knew he would be drifting off to slumber soon. Laurent continued even though his words sounded slow and heavy. “My mother would make them fresh in the morning....” Laurent trailed off. 

Damen whispered softly, “Do you want me to stay?”

His eyelids were heavy, not surprising given the late hour. Laurent thought he replied with  _ please do _ , but he drifted off to bed soon after, his last memory the vague impression of lips against his forehead before sleep overtook him.

 

++

 

In the morning, Laurent woke up in a warm embrace. His open mouth was pressed against a naked chest, and he could feel the heavy weight of an arm slung over his waist. With slow cautiousness, he rolled away to see the bright face of Damen looking down at him. 

“Good morning,” Damen said with a beaming smile. 

There were many things Laurent wanted to say, some along the line of  _ why are you still here _ and  _ of course you’re a morning person _ , but he stiffened when he realized he had only withdrawn his upper body. He had woken up hard, naturally, and it was currently pressed against Damen’s thigh. 

“It’s hard to resist. I would know.” Damen glanced down at his own morning wood, and Laurent was unable to hide the blush when he realized that Damen had stripped down to his boxers during the night. Once again Laurent was confronted—rather closely—with the exact size of Damen’s cock. Laurent could feel it poking him rather insistently in the hip. 

Damen politely retracted his arm from Laurent and rolled a respectful distance away while Laurent fought to find his voice. “How long have you been awake?” he finally asked. 

“I usually wake up early in the morning to workout, but I thought I’d stay in bed and enjoy a much nicer view instead.” 

Laurent narrowed his eyes; he did not like to be objectified. It didn’t matter that his body was equally reacting to being held all night by a large, nearly naked man. “Go workout then.” 

“Right now?” Damen sat up, stretching, and Laurent unapologetically watched.

Laurent’s lip twitched. “Yes. Why don’t you do some pushups?” 

That ridiculous request left Laurent’s lips before he was fully aware of it, but Damen only shrugged and said, “Why not?” He then left the bed and lowered himself into the push-up position in perfect form. He did continuous reps without breaking a sweat, and then changed to one-handed push-ups. Laurent stared at him hard. 

Laurent felt warm and he tried to convince himself unsuccessfully that the heat was from indignation that Damen—like Auguste—had a natural athlete's physique that responded effortlessly to exercise, and not because a sheen of sweat was appearing on Damen, making his rippling muscles glisten in the morning light. 

Damen was starting to make tiny breathing noises as he exhaled, his muscles continuing to be an open, scandalous exhibit. Laurent, who had quieted his morning erection by sheer willpower, was finding it difficult to continue doing so when confronted by such indecency. Laurent was going to take a shower. 

His attempt at a casual walk towards the bathroom with a pillow at his front was foiled when Damen said, without any exertion in his voice, “Leaving so soon? I can help you with that.” Damen nodded at the pillow.

Feeling silly and still a little breathless at the display in front of him, Laurent dropped the pillow on Damen’s back.  Comically, Damen continued the push-ups uninterrupted with the pillow rising and falling in rhythm. 

Damen sent him a bemused look. “Would you like to climb on as well? I’m pretty sure I can carry you.” 

Laurent almost considered balancing more pillows just to see how Damen would react, but retreated to the bathroom instead. The temptation to see if Damen  _ could _ carry him was too high.

Under the heavy spray of the shower, Laurent wondered when things had gone so off course. Laurent approached his life with the same tenacity as he did in business: with confidence and an end goal in mind. But Damen’s presence was rendering him reckless and uncertain. 

Damen, with his tousled curls and charming dimpled smile, was infuriating. He claimed to want courtship like a gentleman suitor, but flirted as if the last thing he wanted to do was keep his clothes on. Which was confusing because they had met with the intent of casual sex anyway. 

Laurent wondered if Damen said all those flowery words in order to stay—if so, he had succeeded. They had spent hours together, most of which were spent sharing a bed, and yet there hadn’t been enough actual touching. If their mutual goal had been physical intimacy, perhaps a good thorough fucking was what Laurent needed to clear his mind, satisfy his curiosity, and move on. 

Laurent knew he was physically attracted to Damen. Sex wouldn’t be the problem. He had condoms and lube, and it was morning, so Laurent had a head clear of any alcoholic influence. He just needed to convince Damen that sleeping together with no strings attached was mutually beneficial and something they should pursue. After that, they could part ways, and Laurent would never revisit the restaurant. A clean solution. 

Laurent exited the bathroom after quite some time with this goal in mind. He came to a grinding stop when he turned the corner and saw that Damen was in his kitchen, wearing an apron, and pulling something out of the oven. The wafting smell immediately sent Laurent right back to his childhood; he was sitting at the kitchen table with Auguste, eagerly awaiting their mother’s orange scones to cool down. 

On the table was a steaming stack of blueberry pancakes; the top one even had blueberries arranged into a smiley face with heart eyes. 

Laurent could remember telling Damen these minute details from his childhood, but their entire conversation the previous night had felt like a distant dream more than anything rooted in reality. And yet, Damen was still here, preparing him breakfast from groceries that he certainly did not have in his kitchen. Perhaps he was still sleeping? Damen was unreal. “I don’t even have fresh fruit in my house,” he said slowly, not wanting to break this odd mirage. 

Damen smiled at him. “It helps when you own a restaurant that sources from the local markets and deliver fresh produce to your place everyday. When you said I could stay, I asked if they would stop by here with some ingredients. I hope you don’t mind.”  

“That you made me breakfast?” Laurent suddenly felt irritated. Why was Damen making it so hard to suggest casual sex and then say goodbye? 

Damen brought the plates to the counter, then a steaming teapot, and finally a display of tea selections that looked more appropriate for hotel room service than Laurent’s home. “I didn’t know which tea was your favorite for the morning,” Damen said, scratching the back of his head. It did nothing to hide his biceps. Then, apropos to nothing, he said, “So I was thinking, Nikandros knows a guy who owns a ranch. Maybe next weekend, I can drive us out there and we can go horseback riding? Makedon owns most of that land, so we’ll have plenty of space.” 

Laurent swallowed. “I’ve done nothing but tease you, and then pull away. You still want to see me again?” 

“Yeah. For as long as you’ll let me.” Damen took two steps until he was close enough to trail his fingers against the back of Laurent’s hand. Not holding him, but allowing Laurent to pull away if that’s what he desired. 

Laurent looked up from his hand to see Damen gazing directly into his eyes. He didn’t want to break the gaze. He also didn't want to say goodbye. His natural tendency to reject anyone else before they had the chance to figure him out and prey on his insecurities was preventing him from accepting Damen. But it appeared that Damen perhaps understood that. And this was what he was offering. 

Laurent twisted his hand until his fingers were entwined between Damen’s warm ones. Damen’s smile couldn’t possibly grow any brighter. “Let’s eat,” he said, and they both sat down on the bar stools, Damen still holding his hand between them. 

With his free hand, Laurent picked up an orange scone, and took a small bite. The sharp tang of citrus amongst the crumbling morsel was not an exact copy of his mother’s, but it had enough parallels to make Laurent ache for home. 

“How is it?” Damen had been watching him take his first bite.

Laurent opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed it. “It’s good. Want to taste?” Laurent offered up the remaining scone. 

“Yes,” Damen said, and he leaned in to kiss Laurent. His tongue danced across Laurent’s lower lip, picking up tiny crumbs and silently asking for entrance. Laurent opened his mouth and responded, pressing back against Damen, holding their hands even tighter under the table. 

After a moment, Damen broke the kiss and leaned back. He had a grin on his face. “Delicious.” 

Laurent ducked his head and busied himself with eating. After a moment, he noticed that Damen was eating as well, but with less dexterity. “You know, you’re allowed to take back your hand.”  

“That would require letting go,” Damen stated. 

Laurent broke his hand away to Damen’s dismay, and then rested it on top of Damen’s thigh. He hid his smile when Damen beamed at him. 

After they finished eating, Laurent carefully packed the leftovers to share with Auguste, and turned around to face Damen, leaning back against the refrigerator. During his shower, Laurent had concluded that he wanted to sleep with Damen to fulfill a fantasy, but now he realized that his desire had only intensified. He waited until Damen took a long sip from his mug before announcing, “I want you to fuck me.” 

Damen sputtered. “Are you sure?” 

“Do I sound coerced? You baked a Veretian pastry from the dregs of my kitchen, cooked me my favorite childhood breakfast, and now you’re offering to take me riding next weekend. Congratulations, I’m successfully wooed.” 

Damen grinned. “Well, I don’t want to say you’re easy….but I thought it would take more than this.”

“I saw your cock and I swiped right,” Laurent said flatly. “Apparently I’m very easy.” 

Damen walked until he stood in front of Laurent, trapping him against the fridge. “I want to say I had more sophisticated tastes than that but you only had the one photo.” In a low voice, he continued, “It was enough to make me want you.” 

Laurent felt the warm heat of Damen’s body pressing against him. He lifted his hands until they tangled themselves into Damen’s soft curls and he pulled Damen’s head down to meet his lips. Damen went willingly. 

The kiss now was less chaste than earlier. Their tongues battled for dominance, and Laurent slid his hands up Damen’s shirt to grasp at his back at the same time that Damen wrapped his hands around Laurent’s hips, his fingers teasing at the skin under his waistband. When they finally pulled away, they were panting. 

“Do you want me to take my clothes off?” Damen whispered into his ear as he trailed tiny kisses down the side of Laurent’s neck. It was reminiscent of last night, Damen discarding item after item like slow self-unwrapping present. 

“No,” Laurent said. “I want to take them off myself.” 

Damen groaned and stooped down to get both of his hands beneath Laurent’s ass. With one swift motion, he lifted Laurent up entirely, and Laurent reflexively tightened his legs around Damen’s waist, his arms looping around his neck. “Let’s move to the bed then.” His hands didn’t move from Laurent’s bottom. 

The walk to the bedroom was short, and soon Laurent was pulling Damen’s shirt off his broad shoulders. He smoothed his hands over the cords of tight muscle, feeling them flex beneath his palms as Damen moved. He could taste Damen in his mouth, feel the hardness of his large cock through his jeans. He wanted Damen to touch him. Laurent wondered where they would go from here. Should he take off his shirt too; was it too early to remove Damen’s pants? 

“You’re thinking too much,” Damen murmured against his lips. “Relax.” 

“I am relaxed,” Laurent asserted. Damen set him down when they both stood next to the bed.

Damen didn’t reply, instead moving his lips down to trace Laurent’s pulse, sucking at the skin along his neck and making Laurent’s breath hitch. “Sit down,” Damen said, and Laurent obeyed, dropping down to his bed and then laying down when Damen pushed him onto the mattress. He wrapped his hands around Damen when he crawled on top. Damen was bracing himself above Laurent, his strong arms on both sides of Laurent. 

After a prolonged kiss, Damen began moving south, and then, to Laurent’s surprise, started to undo the buttons of his shirt with his mouth. Damen kissed his skin as it was slowly exposed, and when Laurent’s nipple was unveiled, he took it into his mouth, making Laurent arch up in surprise. Damen’s other hand began to tease Laurent’s other nipple through his shirt until it turned hard. 

“I want to suck you,” Damen said, and Laurent didn’t object, so he began to trail even further down, completely undoing Laurent’s shirt, leaving his chest exposed to the open air. Damen slid down so he was kneeling at the edge of the bed between Laurent’s legs. Damen reached the button to Laurent’s pants, undoing them. 

“Wait,” Laurent said when Damen was about to pull them down. Damen pulled away. “I have—” He gestured to the bedside table, and Damen obediently went, returning with two boxes of condoms. He lifted one box with one curious brow raised, and Laurent pinked. “My regular size wouldn’t fit yours. I wanted to be prepared,” he muttered. 

“When you blush,” Damen chuckled. “What a sight to behold.” 

Damen returned to the edge of the bed, and, rather sensually, slid down Laurent’s pants and briefs just enough for Laurent’s cock to pop out. It was partially erect, and Damen took it into his hand, stroking it to fullness. His other hand was sweeping small circles in the groove of Laurent’s hip. Laurent sucked in a breath as he watched Damen kneel between his legs, his cock in his large hand. Laurent murmured, “You have no idea.” 

Damen rolled the condom on, and then took him into his mouth. 

Laurent groaned and threw his head back onto the bed. Damen’s mouth was warm and enveloped his cock, sucking like he didn’t need air. His hands stroked up and down Laurent’s quivering thighs while Laurent resisted the urge to shout. Never had he felt such a sensation; this pleasure was incomparable to his own hands. Damen hummed, and the vibrations felt as if they were shooting down Laurent’s back. Laurent wanted to kick out, but Damen just grabbed his foot and slung it over his shoulder.

Laurent was breathing hard, his hands fisting the sheets. Damen pulled off his cock with a pop, and his lips were shiny. He began stroking Laurent’s cock with a firm hand and then sucked at the soft skin of his inner thigh. Laurent couldn’t think, but this time he didn’t mind. All he could feel was the tight grip around his cock; the warm, wet drag of Damen’s tongue against his skin; the possessive hold of Damen’s other hand keeping his legs open. 

Laurent wasn’t going to last long. Damen took his cock back into his mouth, taking him deep into his throat, and Laurent was gone. Unable to stop himself, he bucked up against Damen’s face and came with a groan, hiding his eyes behind his arm, overwhelmed by the pleasure that overtook him. Damen pulled off and rubbed his face softly against Laurent’s trembling thigh before climbing back up onto the bed and falling next to him. 

“Hello,” Damen said, his voice raspy. 

Laurent was still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, but he was still aware enough to feel Damen’s hard cock poking him in the hip. “Go sit up” Laurent ordered once he’d caught his breath. 

Damen sent him a confused look, but obeyed, scooting himself until he sat with his back to the headboard. Laurent took that moment to remove his used condom and pants fully, as well as quickly wipe himself with a sheet before climbing into Damen’s lap. 

“Oh, I like this,” Damen murmured, before catching Laurent’s lips. 

Laurent opened himself to that kiss, and at the same time he fought with Damen’s jeans. When he finally had them undone, Damen lifted himself up so Laurent could slide the fabric completely off. Finally, Damen was naked under him, and Laurent sat on top of his thighs. He could feel the powerful muscles flexing under him. Laurent’s cock was still soft between his legs, but Damen’s was standing at attention, large and beautiful with precome spilling at the tip. 

Laurent took it into his hand and smeared the bead of semen over the head of Damen’s cock. Damen groaned into Laurent’s mouth as Laurent made small circles with his thumb over the head of his cock. 

Laurent scooted even closer so he could wrap the fingers of his free hand around the curls of Damen’s hair, tugging on them at the same time that Damen was biting his lips, begging him to stroke harder, faster. Laurent complied, tightening his hold and quickening his pace. The app’s photo in that lighting had not given any justice to Damen’s cock. It was long, and thick, and slid through his hand like hot silk. 

“I want you inside me,” Laurent whispered. 

It was the wrong thing to say, because Damen groaned deeply and then came, all over Laurent’s hand and their stomachs. Laurent blinked in surprise and Damen slid down until he was fully lying on the bed with an over his eyes. His face was bright red. “I’m sorry! Seeing you in my lap, I couldn’t—” He was blabbering, embarrassed. 

Laurent kissed him to stop his words and Damen fell silent. He pulled his arm away to watch Laurent grab the sheet and wipe the come off their stomachs. Damen was lying comfortably on the bed now, his position reminiscent of last night. 

But now, instead of laying with space between them, Laurent chose to lay down close to him, resting his head on Damen’s chest. Damen naturally wrapped his arm around Laurent, his fingers playing with the tips of his hair. Laurent rested his hand on Damen’s abs. 

Laurent pressed a kiss to Damen’s pec muscle and murmured, “It’s okay. I like to see you come undone by my hands.” 

Damen tightened his arm around Laurent, pulling him closer, and Laurent enjoyed the warm press of Damen’s body. Damen’s arm around him was not making him feel trapped, but safe. Feeling sated and comfortable, with the quiet of the morning, his eyes began to grow heavy, and soon Laurent drifted off to sleep, cradled by Damen’s warm touch and the rise and fall of his breathing. 

++

Laurent woke up overly warm and carefully slipped out from Damen’s hold. He took the quiet moment to observe Damen at rest. While sleeping, his features softened, the dark brows framing his face relaxed, and his large chest rose and fell with ease. He was the definition of a gentle giant. Laurent’s eyes began to wander, flickering along his massive arms, the abs, the trim waist, to the half-hard cock hanging between his thighs. 

Laurent’s eyes drifted back up, and he had to hide his startle when he saw Dame watching him. “You’re very,” Laurent flushed at being caught, “attractive.” 

“So are you,” Damen returned the compliment, smiling.

Laurent knew what he looked like, especially now, laying naked except for the unbuttoned white shirt falling off his shoulders. This was not the first time he had received a compliment about his appearance, but it was the first time the words made him feel warm inside. 

“Good morning,” Damen said. 

“Is it?” Laurent looked outside his windows; the sun was high above the sky. “The morning was wasted. We’ve done nothing.” 

Damen leaned closer and wrapped his arms around Laurent’s waist, pulling him closer, his hands resting on his stomach. He put his chin on Laurent’s head. “I beg to differ. It has been a  _ very _ good morning.” He wiggled until he settled in a more comfortable position, their bodies sliding together naturally. 

They were spooning, Laurent realized. Damen was a giant puppy and Laurent resisted petting him on the head. He let himself relax into Damen’s chest. They both stayed quiet, enjoying each other’s presence as the sun began to climb even higher and the morning rays shifted the shadows in the room. 

Laurent almost imagined Damen had drifted off to sleep again until he felt something shift and harden against his lower back. 

“I would apologize, but you’re naked in my arms. How could I resist?” Damen murmured into his hair. 

Laurent turned around and trailed his fingers along Damen’s chest. Trying to be coy, Laurent peered up at him. “Perhaps now you can finally keep your word and make me scream your name.” 

Damen smoothed his hand over Laurent’s chest, his thumb flicking at the nipple. Laurent’s eyes fluttered. “I can’t have you telling people I’m not a man of my word. It seems I will just have to keep trying.”

Damen sat up suddenly, and pulled Laurent up with him. Laurent, surprised at the strength and the motion, came willingly. Damen tugged him into a deep kiss and Laurent returned it eagerly. He let Damen pushed his shirt until it was completely off, and then toss it aside. Now, finally, they were both completely naked. Damen’s hand found its way from Laurent’s upper back to the curve right above his ass. 

Damen whispered against his lips, “Have you ever?” And his fingers dipped lower to demonstrate what he meant.

Laurent pulled away just enough to catch his breath. He knew his face was pinked. “Only with my fingers.” 

Damen’s eyes darkened. “Show me.” 

His words sent shivers down Laurent’s back, and Laurent found himself wanting to obey. Something had changed in him. The anxiety he should have felt at Damen making such a request seemed to have been vanquished. Damen had showed time and time again that he wanted to put Laurent’s comfort and pleasure first. This was his pace, and his decision. He did want to show Damen how he pleasured himself, and then have Damen multiple that pleasure with his cock. “Yes,” Laurent said. 

He settled back into a comfortable recline and brought his hand to stroke his own cock. Damen was doing the same, watching him from a distance. Having Damen watch him touch himself brought a new thrill to this act that Laurent usually performed privately. Damen’s gaze seem to make his skin feel more sensitive, like a spark of electric under his skin. As he coaxed his cock into hardness, Laurent reached for the lube in the bedside table. Finally, he opened his legs and listened with delight at the sharp intake of breath from Damen. 

Laurent kept his eyes on Damen, watching his every movement. Damen was stroking himself faster, his breathing coming harder. Laurent’s finger slowly encircled his opening, teasing it. His other hand was still stroking his cock, using the pleasure to distract. Finally, he slipped one finger into the tightness. Laurent’s eyes fluttered at the feeling. He wondered if Damen was imagining the finger to be his own.  

He began moving his finger, letting his body adjust to the intrusion. It wasn’t long before a second finger followed the first, and Laurent’s hand around his cock had stopped moving, too focused on seeking pleasure elsewhere. Laurent closed his eyes, but the image of Damen staring at him stayed in his mind. He moved his fingers, knowing that Damen was sitting on the bed, watching him open himself up, preparing himself to take Damen’s cock. 

“May I?” Damen’s voice was tight. 

Laurent opened his eyes to see Damen staring at him with laser focus, his hand tightly gripping the base of his cock. His body was shaking like a rope pulled taut.  

“Yes,” Laurent said again, drawing Damen closer and withdrawing his fingers. 

Damen kissed him passionately and Laurent willingly gave himself away. One of Damen’s finger moved to tease his opening, not entering where it now felt empty. Damen’s other hand circled around Laurent’s nipple in the same way his finger teased at his hole and it drew a frustrated whine from Laurent. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Damen answered in response. And then his finger slipped inside, making Laurent gasp. 

Damen’s fingers were thicker than his own, and their entrance felt so different. Damen moved them slowly, gently, giving Laurent time to adjust. He demanded another. Damen obeyed and Laurent felt himself flushing at the idea that he was commanding another man to touch him so intimately. He wanted more. He told Damen as much, but Damen only pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

Laurent began to rock his hips; he wanted Damen to press deeper into him. He wanted Damen where fingers could not reach. He wanted his cock. Then Damen curled his fingers, and Laurent saw stars. He was shaking. Damen brushed the same spot again and he gasped, scratching at Damen’s back. Damen kissed him again. 

“I want you inside me,” Laurent said. He was above begging. But he would climb into Damen’s lap soon if he didn’t stop teasing. Damen had three fingers in him at this point, and they were sliding in and out of his hole with ease. When Damen finally withdrew them, Laurent felt his hole clench around the emptiness. “Damen,” he whined.

“Yes,” Damen answered. “Yes, sweetheart.” He positioned Laurent so he was facedown on the bed, his legs spread apart, Damen kneeling behind him. Laurent could hear Damen open the condom wrapper and then slide it onto his cock. He arched his back, hoping Damen would move faster. “Fuck, Laurent,” Damen breathed out. 

Damen guided his cock to Laurent’s hole, spreading his legs farther apart. Damen stroked a comforting hand over Laurent’s back before finally, finally pressing forward. Laurent choked back a shout at the sheer girth of the cock that had only just begun to enter him. It was larger than anything he had ever taken into his body. He fisted the sheets tightly, and whimpered when Damen leaned down to cover his hand with his own. Slowly, Damen continued entering him, allowing Laurent to adjust to his size. 

After what felt like eternity, Damen was fully inside. He didn’t move, his hand still holding Laurent’s, his mouth pressing soft kisses into Laurent’s back. Laurent felt so full. He couldn’t believe Damen was so deep inside him, his cock so big it felt like it was splitting him in two. It was hot, and rigid, and a sensation that Laurent had never experienced before. He was ready; he wanted Damen to fuck him. “Move,” Laurent said. 

“You’re ready?” Damen asked into his shoulder blade. He tightened his hand around Laurent’s fingers. 

“Yes! Now move!” Laurent snapped. 

Damen bit him on the shoulder, perhaps for his impertinence, but obeyed. He drew his hips back and then thrust hard, making Laurent shout. The hot drag of his cock against his tight hole was making him shake. He pushed back against every push of Damen’s hip, hoping to pull him in even deeper. And then Damen shifted his knees, changed the angle, and dragged his cock right over Laurent’s spot, making Laurent cry out in pleasure. Damen began pursuing that spot relentlessly, drawing out every sweet cry from Laurent’s lips. 

Damen’s hand moved from holding Laurent’s hip to gripping Laurent’s cock, stroking it, adding to Laurent’s mind-numbing pleasure. Laurent couldn’t help the moans that were leaving his mouth. 

“Say my name,” Damen ordered. 

“Damen,” Laurent moaned, feeling his ironclad control leave him. His voice felt not like his own. All he could feel was Damen: Damen’s cock penetrating him, his hand holding his tightly, his other hand wrapped around his cock, and his mouth sucking a bruise into the back of his neck. 

Laurent was soon pushed over the edge. He came shouting Damen’s name. The way he tightened around Damen’s cock brought Damen to his climax shortly after. Damen pulled out and they both collapsed onto the bed. Damen pulled a boneless Laurent away from the wet patch under him, and into his arms. 

After Laurent stayed silent for a full minute, Damen asked, “Laurent? What are you thinking?” 

“You have fucked my mind out of me. I have nothing clever to say.” 

Damen chuckled, “I don’t believe that for a second.” 

Laurent quirked his lips. “Good thing we are going riding  _ next  _ weekend. I don’t think I can get on a horse right now.” 

Damen’s expressive brown eyes turned concerned, but Laurent simply put a placating hand on his chest to let him know everything was fine. After another second, Laurent began to sweep his finger across Damen’s chest. 

“What are you doing?” Bemusement leaked into his voice. 

Laurent smiled and thought he probably looked loopy. He had just been thoroughly fucked and was in bliss. He allowed himself to be silly. “I’m swiping right. Ten out of ten, will do again.” 

Damen grabbed Laurent’s hand, and held their hands over his heart. “Maybe I can convince you not to swipe right on anyone else. I’d love to be here for as long as you’d have me.”

Laurent felt his face flush at those words, because he too would like to give this a chance. “Yes,” he whispered into their interlaced hands.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to see the dick pics that inspired this fic, but please proceed with caution in the privacy of your own bedroom because it is 100% NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!!:  
> [Damen](http://critiquemydickpic.tumblr.com/post/141993780975/iknowitwhenithitsmetumblrcom)  
> [Laurent](http://critiquemydickpic.tumblr.com/post/157261120674/in-a-bathtub-germany)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://sarabelium.tumblr.com/)!


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